Chris's
by XxCanadaxX
Summary: McPriceley Heathers AU Connor McKinley had finally gotten the one thing he craved, popularity. Joining the Chris's was one of the best decisions he had ever made. But when a he gets in trouble with a mysterious loner, he digs himself a hole that just keeps getting deeper and deeper the more he tries to fix it. Rated T for language, drugs, drinking, and implied sex.
1. Chapter 1

A young blonde majestically adjusted his silver Rolex watch, making sure the numbers gleamed in the late afternoon sun. He had more money than most of his peers, and he wanted to make sure that everyone knew it. He was sitting in a nice garden area that was surrounded by beds of roses. Sitting regally around him were two other males. They had his composure that said "Don't talk to me, I'm famous," but, they weren't half as in charge as he was. One was a tall, dark-haired jock that was obviously his second in command. The other was shorter than the beta, but not as small as the leader. He had a sweeter face, and an exotic look.

All three of the boys seemed to just be sitting around and having a nice meal. Perched next to their seats were croquet mallets of different colors, green, red, and yellow.

The blonde got up, which prompted the other two to follow. They stepped over the little fence that was around the garden area, making sure to step on the flowers as they walked. There was green grass everywhere and trees spattered randomly all over the magnificent yard. They passed an occasional statue while they kept strutting like peacocks, chattering along the way. They kept their footsteps synchronized as they approached three balls, all the same color as the mallets. The taller one who was dressed in a yellow that matched his mallet and ball took his turn first. He frowned after he saw the results of his hit.

"Damn. It's your turn Chris," He turned to the one dressed in red who was smiling at his friend despite the pitiful attempt he had made at hitting the ball.

"No, Chris, its Chris' turn," Chris said sassily.

The Chris in green had pulled out a copy of Moby Dick and had started to read it with an absent-minded look on his face.

"Chris," The scrawny one snapped his fingers to get the distracted reader to look.

"Sorry Chris," He said pitifully, as if he was sadly used to saying that phrase. He marked the page in his book and tried to hit the ball the best he could, more rushed than the yellow one. The white striped ball didn't move much more than the yellow one and the other boys gave each other sly looks.

It was finally the main Chris' turn. He pursed his lips in frustration and looked at his goal, planning out the shot in his head. He picked up the ball, kissed it for good luck (which he didn't need, his colleagues assured him all the time), and took his shot. He whacked it with a harder force than the two boys who had went before him, essentially making his goal.

He laughed at his triumph with his friends while a stout red-head just rolled his eyes.

"This is so boring," He muttered.

"Is there a problem, Connor?" The main Chris emphasized Connor's name, as if to remind him that he didn't belong with them in the first place.

"No," Connor mumbled as he stepped up. "I hate the color blue," He grumbled as he tried (and failed) to play croquet like the other boys.

Connor hurried through the crowded hallways, trying to navigate without spilling his books everywhere. He smiled shyly at everyone as he looked around for Chris, A Chris, ANY Chris. All around his was chaos, people jumping around and throwing things everywhere. He plopped down by the stairs when he couldn't find anyone and pulled out his notebook, sketching a little. He caught a glimpse of one football players, Kevin Price and was going to approach him when his view was blocked by a yellow polo.

"Come on Connor!" Chris C. complained loudly.

"Can't you ask nicely? Why you gotta be so demanding all the time?"

"That's how you have to be if you want to go places in life," Chris shrugged.

"You need to get the cafeteria," Chris D. butted in. He was never one to be left out of a conversation. He always wanted to know everything everyone was talking about. "Chris really wants to talk to you,"

"Fine," Connor packed up all of his things and followed the alphas to the lunch room.

All around him were the social groups that you were separated into once you in high school. You had your basic nerds, emos, jocks, etc. Today Connor noticed someone new. A shaggy haired kid sitting in the corner, but he didn't look like your average depressed loner. He was smoking a cigarette, and seemed quite proud to be sitting by himself.

"Hello Chris," Connor rolled his eyes at how needed their leady always seemed to be.

"Connor, finally," Chris T. flashed him a not-really-real smile. "I got a note I want you to forge for Kelly Brown. It needs to sound horny, but realistic at the same time. Know what I'm saying?" Chris batted his eyelashes innocently.

"No," Connor huffed. "I never used my forgery powers for evil until you came along."

"And look how far it's gotten you!" Chris D. added excitedly.

"Not helping," Chris C. huffed.

"Shut up you two! Anyways, it's for Arnold." Chris said with a devilish look in his eyes.

"Come on! I don't have anything against Arnold Cunningham," Connor was tired of Chris using his forgery for everything. It got annoying at times.

"You don't have anything for him either. It'll be fun!"

Chris C. and Chris D. exchanged mischievous looks.

"Maybe," Connor sighed, giving into Chris like he always did.

"Please," Chris knew Connor was already going to do it, but he liked to keep up the stupid act. He looked over at Arnold who was getting his lunch.

Kids like Arnold were practically begging to get made fun of. From his unruly hair to his lack of style, to his obesity, he was a slab of meat and the entire student body was hungry wolves.

"Connor will need something to write on. Chris, bend over,"

Chris didn't even need to clarify which Chris it was; everyone knew that the one in green was practically the others slave.

Connor gave Chris T. an "I'm so ashamed of you" look and went to writing.

_'Dear Arnold,_

_You're so sweet,'_

He started it off simple, occasionally glancing up to glare at Chris, who was smugly looking around the cafeteria.

Connor finished the letter and handed it to Chris T., who handed it to Chris C., who folded it up and slipped it onto Arnold lunch tray while everyone watched.

"Come on, time for a lunchtime poll," Chris T. got up and gestured for all the others to follow.

"This better not be that question your were talking about over the phone," Chris C. nonchalantly smoothed his hair back.

"Yep!" Chris T. chirped while pulling out a Poptart to munch on.

They all walked to the jock table. The jock table was primarily football players, will some hot soccer boys to spice up the bunch. They were all laughing loudly at some stupid story one of them had told.

Chris cleared his throat and everyone looked up. Kevin flashed all four of the boys' one of his killer smiles.

"In your dreams, homo," Chris T. scoffed.

Kevin had come out at the beginning of senior year, and if he wasn't the quarterback, he probably would have been shunned. All the players had reluctantly gotten used to him.

Connor always told himself the reason he never came out was because everyone would kill him. The truth was, both of his parents were the biggest homophobes in town, which lead to Connor having some major self-esteem issues. He promised himself he would come out when both of his parents died( thought he probably still wouldn't come out then)

Kevin rolled his eyes and went back to eating.

"What if you had just won five million dollars, but the day you win it, aliens come and say they are going to blow up the Earth in 2 days? What would you do?"

"Um duh, screw J. Lo. Have you seen that ass?" Noah responded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. All the guys high fived him and said the same thing, but replaced J Lo. with different female celebrities.

Chris D. turned to Kevin. "What about you?"

"Uh, Neil Patrick Harris?" He seemed confused. "I don't think I just use it to bang some guy though, I'd want to like, go sky diving or something,"

Connor nodded. "That's seems reasonable,"

"Thanks," Kevin grinned.

Chris scribbled down some things in his legal pad and walked over to Kelly's table, asking everyone the same question.

"Get an extreme make over, and then uh, bang Brad Pitt," Kelly twirled her hair on finger and chewed her gum loudly. No one ever saw Kelly eat, she was always chewing gum. Everyone just assumed it was some diet to keep her skinny. Chris D. always looked envious of how thin Kelly was.

"Yeah," Emma agreed.

"Totally," Another airhead said.

"Thank you for your time," Chris T. smiled politely and wiped some Poptart crumbs off his polo.

They all returned to their table and discussed the results. While all the Chris' were talking, Connor looked back at the newcomer, who was still sitting alone. This time the stranger locked eyes with Connor and smirked. Connor blushed and suddenly became very interested in his mashed potatoes. All of a sudden, the lunchroom erupted in laughter.

Chris smacked Connor's arm.

"You totally missed it!" He was wiping tears from his eyes from laughing. "While you were making intense eye contact with your crappy lunch, Arnold totally bombed!"

Connor let out a fake laugh. "That's great," He murmured, knowing he wouldn't be able to get the new arrivals intense eyes out of his head for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom, trying to not look vain as he checked his reflection. None of the boys really wanted to be in there, but they made hourly stops for Chris D.

"Connor, could you come back here for a minute?" Chris D. timidly asked.

He was standing in the doorway of the stall, looking uneasy and unhappy. His hair had lost its sheen, and his stomach was practically flat, even though he somehow still retained some muscles to keep the girls wanting more.

Connor looked at the other Chris' "This is what being a true friend is," He hoped they got something out of that, but they just rolled their eyes.

"Gross,"

Connor walked into the stall with Chris D.

"Grow up Chris, Bulimia is so 8th grade," Chris T. leered.

"You should probably see a doctor," Connor took on his role as concerned mother.

"Maybe," Chris shrugged. He was leaning against one side of the wall while Connor was leaning against the other, comforting him.

"Come on, Chris, let's take another look at today's lunch," Chris C. snickered with Chris T.

"You guys are just making it worse," Connor frowned. How could those two be so mean to their friend? He continued to provide Chris with the counseling he needed until he got up the courage to go back into the lunch room and eat something.

The loner just sat there, looking at the wall and smirking. He had this atmosphere of confidence, like he could take on any guy in school, even if they were twice his size. That both intrigued and scared Connor. People like that could just be cocky, or something much worse.

He caught Connor's eye and winked.

"God Connor, fag much?" Chris T. smirked.

"Aw lay off him," Chris C. defended Connor. Everyone knew Connor's secret, even though he hadn't officially come out to them. Chris C. figured the least he could do was get Connor a boyfriend. "His name is Steve Blade," Chris whispered to Connor. "He's in my American History class."

Connor took a deep breath and decided to confront this strange new student.

"Hello Steve Blade," Connor was amazed that he didn't stutter, or that his voice didn't crack.

Steve beamed in a mocking way. "Greetings and Salutations," His voice was soothing, but rough at the same time.

Connor smiled shyly.

"You with the Chris'?" He gestured to the group standing at the entrance of the cafeteria.

"No, I'm a Connor," He said slyly. "McKinley. This may seem like a really stupid question."

"There are no stupid questions," Steve chimed in.

Connor laughed. "You get five million dollars the same day aliens land on the Earth and say they're going to blow it up in two days,"

Steve looked at Connor like he had two heads.

"What do you do?" Connor continued.

Steve paused and blinked a few times before answering. "That's the stupidest question I've ever heard,"

Meanwhile, Noah Neely and Matthew Michaels were staring suspiciously at Steve and Connor.

"Who does the think he is anyway?" Noah stated, taking a bite of his cheeseburger.

Kevin was going to say something about not being stupid and taking on this guy when he heard Mathew say, "He's sure got Connor wrapped around his finger,"

"Connor?" Kevin suddenly became interested in the conversation.

"Yeah that one closeted guy that everyone knows is gay," Noah explained.

"I know who he is dumbass, what's he doing with Steve?"

"I don't know, probably just sit around and wait for oblivion," Steve casually took a sip from his soda.

"How original," Connor rolled his eyes.

"Yep," Steve grinned.

Chris T. walked up quickly behind Connor. "Come on Connor." He glared at Steve.

Connor looked at Chris, and then at Steve. "Later," He shrugged.

"Definitely," Steve promised.

Connor dumbly smiled before Chris dragged him off.

"Let's beat him up," Noah declared.

Normally Kevin would stop Noah and Matthews's testosterone-stimulated attack, but he didn't want anyone messing with Connor, so he let them go. He knew it was a little selfish, but he didn't care.

The two football players approached Steve, smiling like maniacs.

"Hey, doesn't this cafeteria have a no fags policy?" Mathew said loudly. He sounded like an idiot, considering the fact that one of his best friends was gay, but he liked intimidating new people.

"Well they seem to have an open door policy for assholes though don't they," Steve scoffed.

Noah and Matthew looked at each other, trying to get through their thick skulls what Steve had just said to them.

"What did you say dickhead?" Noah growled, looking Steve in the eye.

"I'll repeat myself," Steve stood up, pulling out a gun. Before anyone could say anything, two gunshots rang out in the lunchroom.

"They won't expel him," Chris C. said as he took his shot in croquet. "They'll just suspend him for a week or something," He explained.

"He used a real gun!" Chris T. protested. "They should throw his ass in jail,"

Chris C. smiled at the ground and gave him a "we'll see" look.

"No way," Connor was quick to defend Steve. "He used blanks. All he really did was ruin two pairs of pants," He simpered, holding his croquet mallet behind his head with both hands resting on it. He was starting to get used to the boring game the Chris' always insisted they play at Connor's house. "Maybe not even that. Can you bleach out urine stains?" He chuckled, and Chris D. and C. laughed.

"You seem pretty amused," Chris T. noted. "I thought you had given up on dating,"

"I don't know," Connor looked sheepishly at the ground.

Chris T. finally took his shot, and hit the green ball with his red one.

Chris D. looked sadly at his ball. "So what are you going to do Chris? Take the two shots or send me out?" He already knew what was coming.

"Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast?" Chris T. scoffed.

Chris looked desperately at the ground, wishing he could just disappear.

"First you ask if you can be red, knowing that I'm always red," Chris' voice softened up, but his eyes were those of a demon. Chris sent the green ball flying out of the garden.

"Shit," Chris D. muttered.

Connor shook his head. When will these people ever learn? Being a dick to each other was not the way to go.

"It's your turn Chris," Chris said triumphantly.

Chris gloomily looked at the alpha and then went to his ball, which was all the way through the perfectly manicured meadow. Chris looked victoriously at the other Chris' warning them not to question his authority.

"Easy shot Chris," Chris C. taunted.

"Give it up," Connor was rooting for Chris D., but there was no way he was going to make this shot.

Chris bit his lip in concentration and whacked the ball. It sailed across the lawn and into the wicket.

Everyone gasped at how he had made it.

Chris D. smiled humbly and let out a little celebration "Whoop!"

"So, tonight's the night. Are you two excited?" Chris C. asked as Chris D. walked back over to the group. He was referencing the college party Connor and Chris T. were going to.

Chris T. quickly closed his mouth that was hanging open from Chris D.'s shot, trying to not look impressed. "I'm giving Connor his first shot, his first Remington party."

Connor rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day.

"You blow it tonight, and it's keggers with kids all throughout the rest of the year," Chris attempted to intimidate Connor.

Connor ignored him and swung his mallet. The ball didn't go that far, and Connor cursed under his breath.

Chris D. sat down by the reflecting pool.

Chris T. went out of his way on his turn to hit Chris D.'s ball, and was successful.

"Why?" Chris D. asked, annoyed.

"Why not," Chris T. shrugged, enjoying torturing his theta.

Connor's parents came out with a tray of exotic cheeses and wines.

"Chris, you mother's here," His mother called out sweetly.

"Come on whoever wants a ride." Chris C. yelled to his bickering friends.

They all dropped their mallets and followed Chris to his mom's car, while Connor stayed with his parents.

"Take a break Connor. Sit down," His father invited him with a smile.

Connor obeyed, taking a tiny bit of cheese and spreading it on a cracker.

"So what was the first week of spring vacation withdrawal like?" His father asked, even though he didn't really care.

"Okay I guess," Connor's voice came out muffled from his cheese and cracker.

His mother smiled at her son's childlike behavior. "Isn't prom coming up?"

"I guess," Connor tried not to smile, but all he could think of was Steve.

"Any girls you're thinking of taking?"

"Maybe," He said thoughtfully.

"Goddamn, will somebody tell me why I read these spy novels?" He father never looked up from his book.

"'Cause you're an idiot," Connor joked.

"Oh yeah, that's it," His father turned the page and looked at Connor briefly.

"You two," His mother shook her head while she giggled.

"Great cheese, but I gotta go if I want to get to that party tonight," Connor got up and prepared for the worst.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Connor groaned as he hurried into the gas station.

"Corn nuts!" Chris T. yelled from his car.

"Bq or plain?" Connor hung on the door which was perched half open.

"Bq!" Chris stuck his head out of his car window and huffed.

Connor rushed in and was about to grab the junk food when he heard Steve say.

"You gonna pull the super chug with that?"

Connor smiled while Steve walked over.

"No, but if you're nice I'll let you buy me a slushy," He said innocently. "I see you know your convenience-speak pretty well," Connor scoffed.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, well, I've been moved around my whole life. Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas, you name it," He walked around Connor. "There's always been a snappy snack shack. Any town, any time, pop a hot pocket in the microwave, and feast on a hot dog. Keeps me sane," He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Ew," Connor wrinkled his nose. "Really?"

Steve nodded again, slower.

"What you did today was pretty severe,"

"The extreme always seems to make an impression,"

Connor grinned and looked at a straw he had just picked up.

Steve grinned back. "Did you say Cherry or Coke slushy?"

"I didn't," Connor pressed his lips together in a devilish way.

"I'm gonna go with Cherry," Steve decided.

"Good choice," Connor beamed

Connor walked out of the store with Steve by his side, sipping on a slushy.

"Nice bike," Connor gestured towards Steve's motorcycle that Connor himself would never, ever ride.

"Yeah, just a perk from my dad's construction company," Steve waved the whole matter off like it was no big deal.

"Wow,"

Steve lit and cigarette and offered Connor one.

Connor shook his head. He had never smoked before, and didn't want to.

Connor heard a loud honk. Chris glared at him. "Come on!"

"Ugh, gotta go to a party with my 'friend'," Connor slumped his shoulders. "I don't really like him that much,"

"Neither do I," Steve smirked.

Connor gave Steve an understanding look. "It's just like he's a person I work with and out job ia being popular and shit," He let out a weak laugh.

"Maybe it's time to take a vacation," Steve suggested.

Connor shrugged. "Maybe,"

Connor adjusted his leather jacket which was worn over a faded navy blue tee. He wanted it to seem like he had just thrown the outfit on when in reality, he had fretted over what he was going to wear for almost an hour.

Connor looked around nervously as he and Chris walked through a fraternity full of beer guzzling college boys and slutty girls. The air smelled like pot, and the carpet was stained with a mysterious substance. Some stupid pop music was playing in the background, but no one was really dancing. They were too busy hooking up or getting drunk.

Some other guys came to meet them.

"Hey bros, throw your coats on the floor," An over-confident skinny kid welcomed them.

Connor and Chris did as they were told.

"Ah, Chris, this is Chloe," Another college student introduced a dark skinned girl wearing a tight, short, hot pink dress.

"Excellent," Chris beamed. "Let's party,"

"WHOOP!" The group of boys cheered.

"It's so great to be able to talk to a guy and not have to ask what his major is," Some drunken girl slurred. "I hate that," She giggled.

Connor sighed and took a sip from his drink, which was some foreign alcohol.

She frowned and awkwardly tried to copy Connor, spilling some of her drink in the process.

"So uh, when you go to like, college, what subjects do you think you'll study," She made a weak attempt at conversation.

Connor closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall.

Chris broke away from making out with some random girl.

"We might wanna get back to the party," She weakly suggested.

"We will," Chris promised. "But you're looking so good tonight,"

She exhaled and unzipped her dress.

Connor lit a match as he sat down on a random, stained sofa. He shakily tried to cover the match with his hand, occasionally jerking his hand up when it got to close to the heat. Slightly drunk, he dropped the match in his drink, which immediately caused it to catch fire and keep burning. He stared at the fire for a few seconds before throwing it out the window, where it landed in a trashcan.

Chris got some water from the sink and gurgled, staring intensely at his reflection. The girl had already left, and he was feeling very uneasy with himself.

Another girl sat down next to him. She had dark skin, and bouncy curls. She didn't look to good.

"You okay?" Connor asked.

"No," She puffed, just as a tall boy walked into the room.

"How's my little bumblebee doing?" He teased.

She sighed heavily.

"Look, I know you're kind of uptight, just relax," The guy was still smiling, not evident to how fed up she was. He sat down beside her and sloppily put his arm around her.

"I'm not in the mood for this," She snapped, turning to face him.

"Let's do it right here, it'll be awesome!" He continued, ignoring her.

She stood up quickly, revolted.

"Hey!" Connor growled. "Can't you see she's not happy?"

"I just want to get laid," The guy jeered.

"You are disgusting. " Connor shook his head and walked out with the girl.

"Thanks," She mumbled once they were out.

"No problem. I'm Connor, if anyone else tries something like that just tell me," He stuck out his hand.

She shook it. "I'm Nabalungi," She smiled shyly.

Connor spotted Chris and his stomach heaved. "I have to go, but I hope we meet again sometime," He tried to sound cheery, but it came out weak.

"Me to," Her eyes lit up.

Connor approached Chris and leaned heavily against the wall.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked, more annoyed than concerned.

"I feel really sick, like I'm going to throw up," Connor's voice shook. "Can we please leave?"

"No," Chris ridiculed. "Hell no,"

Connor was going to say something back when he bent over and vomited all over the floor.

Chris laughed as Connor coughed.

Connor stormed out of the building, right next to the burning trash can.

"You stupid fuck!" Chris exclaimed.

"You goddamn bastard!" Connor retorted.

"You were nothing before you met me, a zero. I got you into a Remington party! What's my thanks? It's on the carpet! I got paid in puke,"

"Lick it up," Connor snarled, not caring what happened.

"Monday morning you're history. I'll tell everyone about tonight. Transfer to someone else. No one here is gonna look at you," Chris sneered.

Connor sat in his room, talking furiously on the phone with Kevin.

"Kevin, I want to kill and you have to believe it's for more than just selfish reasons. More than just my hormones getting the best of me,"

"What?" Kevin furrowed his brows, trying to understand what Connor was saying.

"Just hear me out," Connor assured. "You have to believe me! I can't explain it, but I'm allowed an understanding that my parents and these Remington University assholes have chosen to ignore,"

Kevin nodded, going along.

"I understand that I must stop Chris!"

"He is a bitch," Kevin agreed.

"I had a true friend and I sold him out to a bunch of swatch dogs and coke heads," Connor fumed. "Killing Chris would be like offing the wicked witch of the west. Wait east. West! God, I sound like a fucking psycho!"

"It's okay,"

"No it's not! Tomorrow, I'll be kissing his ass. You know what; I've got better ways to deal with this,"

"Wait!" But Connor had already hung up.

Connor flopped down on his bed.

_'Tonight, let me dream of a world without Chris, a world where I am free,' _


	4. Chapter 4

Connor stirred slightly as he heard a loud bang, followed by a string of cursing.

"Wha?" He checked the time. It was 2:00 am, which meant he had gotten exactly 46 minutes of sleep since he had lain down.

"Dreadful etiquette, I apologize,"

Connor sat up quickly when he heard that voice.

"Steve?" He drowsily muttered.

"The one and only," Steve grinned, climbing in through Connor's window.

"What are you doing here? I mean do you want something…" Connor became more aware of his surroundings the longer he was awake.

"Actually, I saw the croquet set up in the back. You up for a match?"

"Yeah yeah," Connor yawned "Just let me change,"

Steve sat there, not moving.

"Well turn around you pervert!" Connor huffed, crossing his arms.

"Oh yeah, sorry," Steve hastily faced the wall.

Connor sighed, knowing he probably wasn't going to be wearing his clothes for that long anyways

Connor clothes did indeed, end up being strewn across the lawn.

Steve just sat there smiling while Connor walked around in his boxers and a t-shirt, trying to find his pants.

"Thank you. That was my first game of strip croquet," Steve laughed.

"You're welcome. It's a lot more interesting than just flinging off your clothes," Connor replied, attempting to hide his uneasiness.

"Lighten up," Steve pulled on his pants and shirt, ruffling up his hair. He walked over to Connor and flung his arm around Connor's shoulders.

"Whatever," Connor wiggled his way out of Steve's grip.

Steve frowned and rolled his eyes. "Fine, be like that,"

"Sorry," Connor defended himself. "I just don't want to end up like Chris. Just having sex, wherever, whenever, whoever,"

"Speaking of Chris, he is one bastard who deserves to die,"

"Killing him won't solve anything," Connor pointed out. He then got a brilliant idea. "I think we should just grow up, be adults, and die. But before that…" He smiled mischievously. "…I'd like to see Chris puke his guts out,"

Connor opened the sliding glad door that lead to Chris T's home. It was average sized, but looked like it had been decorated by a grandma. There was a shag carpet, and little porcelain figures everywhere.

"Trust me, his parents aren't home," Connor assured Steve, who was following closely behind.

"We'll just make a little hangover cure that will induce him to spew red, white, and blue," He looked around underneath the sink while Connor was rummaging through the fridge.

"What about like, milk and orange juice," Connor suggested. "How's that?"

Steve's head popped up. He was holding a bottle of tub cleaner. "This is how you get someone to puke,"

"Don't be a dick," Connor glared at him. "That stuff will kill him," He laughed weakly.

Steve looked at Connor blankly for a few seconds before nodding in agreement and looking for a cup. He chose a white mug with a matching top.

"I know," Connor's eyes lit up. "We can make some soup, and put it in a coke,"

Steve turned his back to Connor and poured the blue cleaning substance into the cup.

Connor had a plethora of items sitting on the counter, all having a purpose as to make Chris miserable.

"Put a lid on that stuff," Steve scoffed. "I say we go with big blue here,"

"What are you talking about? He would never drink anything that looked like that anyway," Connor rested his hands on the orange juice carton and the gallon of milk.

"So we'll put it in this," He held up the cup. 'He won't be able to tell,"

"Let me get a cup jerk," Connor said dejectedly, moving beside Steve. He grabbed another white mug. "Okay, milk and orange juice," He started to pour the milk in. "Maybe we could cough up a phlegm glob to put in it or something," He looked up innocently at Steve.

They both started coughing loudly, but stopped and shook their heads no.

Connor finished putting in the orange juice. "Oh well, milk and orange juice will suffice,"

"You chicken?" Steve asked, walked back to the sink.

"You're not funny," Connor rolled his eyes.

They both began putting everything up, Steve squatting down to put up the bath cleaner, Connor reaching up to put up the extra cups they had gotten out.

"I'm sorry," Steve walked over and kissed Connor deeply.

Connor reluctantly kissed him back, fumbling with the cup. He pulled away and started towards Chris' room.

Steve looked down at the cup Connor had left. He slowly poured it out into the sink with a devilish look on his face.

Chris was sleeping peacefully, with his arms draped over his head and his legs curled up to his stomach. His body showed no sign of the party last night, except for a hickey peeking out from underneath his shirt collar.

"Morning Chris," Connor smiled sweetly. Steve came up behind him and took the cup.

Chris' eyes fluttered open, and he slowly sat up, yawning. "Connor and new kid, hello," He sneered.

"Chris, I think last night we both said a lot of stuff we didn't mean," Connor started off his apology speech.

"Did we?" Chris narrowed his eyes. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Uh, Connor knew you'd have a hangover so I whipped this up for you," Steve quickly lied, holding out the cup. "It's a family recipe,"

"What did you do put phlegm in it or something?" Chris jeered.

Connor shook his head and smiled.

"I'm not gonna drink that piss,"

"I knew this stuff would be too intense for you," Steve silently challenged Chris.

"Ha!" Chris took off his watch and put it beside him on the bed. "Intense, grow up. You think I'll drink it just because you call me chicken?"

Steve nodded and looked deviously at Connor, who returned the look.

Chris slid off his bed and faced Steve. "Just give me the cup, jerk!" He exhaled loudly.

Steve gave him an "it's your funeral" look as he handed him the cup.

Chris quickly lifted the mug up to face and chugged it. As soon as he had finished it the cup fell from his hands and shattered.

Connor furrowed his brows and stared at Steve.

Chris' eyes bulged out of his head as he coughed and stumbled across the room, gasping for air. He put his hands around his neck until finally he collapsed onto the ground, twitching slightly.

Connor's eyes widened. He clasped his hand over his mouth, not doing anything, "He's dead,"


	5. Yo Holla 5

"Oh. M. Gosh," Connor slowly lowered his hand, which was shaking slightly. What had just happened? All he wanted to do was see Chris throw up everywhere, not die! He already got the gist of what went wrong, he had grabbed the wrong cup and it was all Steve's fault. How could Connor be so stupid? He put his hands up to his forehead and let out a low moan as he walked over to Chris' desk and sat down. "I can't believe it, I just killed my best friend," He closed his eyes, trying to wake up from this horrible nightmare he had made out of his life.

"And your worst enemy," Steve had this look on his face that unsettled Connor. It was as if he was trying to look sad, but was smiling on the inside. It sent shivers down Connor's spine.

"Same difference," Connor managed to choke out.

"What are we gonna tell the cops?" Steve walked over next to Connor and laughed weakly.

Connor wanted to slap him. He had just killed someone, and he wanted to know how to cover it up? Connor could barely move, how was he supposed to hide a body?

"Fuck it if she can't take a joke?" Steve slammed his hands on the desk, causing the pencil holder to spill its contents all over the place.

"Oh, the cops!" Connor put his hands in his lap and started rocking back and forth. "I can't believe this is my life now, Oh my God. I'm gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford," He moved his hands down to cover his whole face.

"Alright, just a little freaked out here," Steve slid his hands down to the edge of the desk. "At least you got what you wanted, you know?"

Connor whipped around rapidly to face Steve. "Got what I wanted? It is one thing to want somebody out of your life; it is another thing to serve them a wakeup cup full of bleach!"

Steve left the desk area and started pacing.

Connor turned back around in his chair, the same horrified expression on his face.

Steve looked around the room, muttering to himself. He took a deep breath and looked at the body again, which was lying sprawled out on the floor.

Connor stood up. "I have to call someone," He went to grab the phone but Steve rushed up to him and grabbed his wrists.

"Don't you dare tell anyone," He growled, getting right up in Connor's face.

"Let go of me!" Connor struggled and tried to pull his wrists free, but Steve had latched on tightly.

"Not until you promise not to tell anyone," Steve squeezed tighter.

"I promise!" Connor bit his lip as he thrashed some more.

Steve looked into Connor's eyes and held on for a moment, before throwing him to the ground. He continued pacing. "Now we murdered someone, that's illegal,"

"You murdered someone," Connor mumbled, rubbing his wrists and stumbling to get up.

Steve ignored him. "But if this were like a suicide thing, you know? "

"Like a suicide thing?" Connor's voice shook.

"Yeah, I mean, you can do Chris' handwriting as well as your own, right?"

Connor's eyes glazed over as he tried to analyze what had just happened between him and Steve.

"Right?" Steve snapped.

Connor blinked and looked up at Steve. "Oh, uh, yeah right," He grabbed one of the pencils that was scattered all over the desk and took a sheet of paper.

"Yeah," Steve got that look again, like he was trying not to smile.

"Uh, You might think what I've done is shocking," Connor read aloud as he wrote.

"Yeah," Steve stared over Connor's shoulder. "Um, to me, though, suicide is the natural answer to the myriad of problems life has given me,"

"That's good but Chris would never use the word myriad," Connor furrowed his brow, trying to get his mind together.

"This is the last thing he'll ever write. He's gonna want to cash in on as many fifty cent words as possible," Steve argued.

"Yeah but he missed myriad on the vocab test two weeks ago," Connor had his little 'aha' moment after thinking for a second.

"That only proves my point more, the word is a badge for his failures at school," Steve said, making it evident in his voice that he was fed up with Connor.

"Oh, okay you're probably right," Connor said quickly, not wanting a repeat of what happened earlier. "People think just because you're handsome and popular life is easy and fun. Uh…" He trailed off for a second. "No one understood that I had feelings to." Connor looked up at Steve for his approval.

"I die knowing no one knew the real me," Steve finished off, looking proud of himself.

"That's good," Connor said absent-mindedly. "Have you done this before?" He joked weakly.

Steve just looked back down at the dead body. "You don't want me to answer that,"

Connor sat in his room, staring at his phone. He wanted to throw up and pass out at the same time. He feebly dialed Kevin's number.

Kevin was in the middle of babysitting. He had his brother Jack, who was crying about how Brandon took his toy, flung over his shoulder like a potato sack, was trying to put on The Wiggles for his screaming brother, Derek, and was attempting to cook lunch for everyone. He groaned when he heard the phone ring and flopped Jack onto the couch.

"Price household, Kevin speaking," He answered as The Wiggles showed up on the T.V. screen.

"Hey," Kevin heard Connor's voice and lit up.

"Hey Connor, how are you?" Kevin asked eagerly.

"Not to good," Connor answered weakly.

"What's wrong?" Kevin frowned. Connor wasn't one to show much emotion besides happiness, even when he was with Chris.

"I just-Something happened-Chris is dead!" He ended up blurting out.

"No way," Kevin's jaw dropped. He heard a ding and walked over to take the chicken nuggets out of the oven.

"Yeah, he uh, he committed suicide," Kevin heard Connor's voice crack.

"Aw honey it's okay," Kevin mentally faced palmed. Why did he say that? He could be an idiot at times.

"No it's not," Kevin heard a beep that meant someone else was calling. "Look, I gotta go. Thanks for the nice talk,"

"Wait what about-!" Kevin sighed, seeing that Connor had already hung up. That was a very bad habit of his.


	6. Chapter 6

"God, it's unfair," Chris C. mused as he pulled up his shorts. P.E. class had just gotten out and everyone was changing in the locker room. Chris C. and Connor were leaning against the rows of old, green-painted lockers that created hallways while Chris D. was sitting on a bench in between them, wolfing down a candy bar. "It's just so unfair!" He banged his hand against the locker, which made a loud rattling noise. "We should get off a whole week, not just an hour," He angrily turned around and pulled his jacket out of his open locker.

Chris D. laughed; almost choking on the king sized Kit Kat he had bought from a cheerleader earlier that day. He had been in a much better mood all day, and when asked if he wanted to make one of his hourly stops to puke in the bathroom, he simply shook his head and smiled. In addition to that, he had been eating like he hadn't had a single bit of food in weeks (which was probably how he felt, considering he had basically thrown up everything he had been eating). "Write the school board," He suggested in between bites of crispy wafer and chocolate.

"Watch it Chris, you might be digesting food there," Connor joked. He had the same smile on his face that Chris did, and for the same reason. Connor was so glad that Chris was feeling better; he loved seeing his friend actually take care of himself. It almost made him forget everything that had happened the day before.

"Yeah, where's your urge to purge?" Chris C. asked, looking confused. He had never seen Chris so happy before.

Connor glared at Chris C. The last thing their bulimic friend need was an invite to start feeling bad about himself again.

But Chris D. didn't care. He simply grinned and threw the wrapper to his candy bar over his shoulder. "Fuck it,"

Connor high-fived Chris, but frowned when he heard Chris C. sigh unhappily.

He had pulled out a shiny object from Chris T.'s unlocked locker. "Look, Chris left behind his watch,"

Connor shifted around nervously. Even though he knew it was practically unavoidable, he had been hoping no one approached him and tried to talk about Chris. He had been ignoring Kevin all day, knowing he was going to want to talk about their conversation they had over the phone.

Chris smiled sadly and threw the watch at Connor, who fumbled and caught it. "He'd want you to have it, Connor. He always said you couldn't accessorize for shit,"

Connor looked down at the watch and was going to say something, when a random student approached him.

"Sorry about your friend, I thought he was your usual sex-crazed son of a bitch. Guess I was wrong, we all were," The student walked away.

Connor wanted to scream, he was so frustrated. Chris _was _your usual sex-crazed son of a bitch; people were just trying to make him seem nice because of his untimely death. Connor supposed the suicide note he and Steve left had something to do with it, but probably not much.

Connor sucked in his cheeks and tried not to vomit.

"What a waste," Chris C. sighed.

Connor walked up to the old sink that was dangerously close to falling off the wall and turned it on, splashing his face. He had been getting these flashes of emotions, but they all lead back to what he and Steve had done. One minute he wanted to pass out, the next he wanted to cry, it was tearing him apart.

"You okay?" Chris D. asked, trying to return the favor from when Connor had taken care of him all those times in the bathroom.

"Yeah, just a little shaken up I guess," It was the half-truth. Connor was shaken up, but for all the wrong reasons. He just wished he could disappear and never have to worry about any of his problems ever again.

All of the desks in Connor's language arts class had been moved from their normal positions so that they made a circle. Connor was sitting out of it, on the couch, because his teacher said he 'wasn't ready to face the challenges of realizing his best friend was dead'. Kevin was sitting on the far side of the classroom, and Connor had been avoiding looking at him for the last class period.

The teacher walked around the desks, holding a piece of paper in her hand and putting it up to her heart.

"I am just so thrilled to finally have an example of the profound sensitivity of which a human is capable of," She started, looking around the classroom. "That example is Chris Thomas,"

There it was again, that urge to scream. Chris wasn't sensitive, he was a dickhead. Anyone in the whole entire school could tell you that.

"I have his note," The teacher held the piece of paper up in the air.

The whole classroom suddenly perked up, and a few students gasped.

Kevin tried to look at Connor, but he refused to make eye contact with him.

"Now, I'm going to pass this note around the class so you can all feel its pathetic beauty for yourself,"

Connor closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch, feeling cornered.

"And while we do this, I think it's a good opportunity to share the feelings that this suicide has spurred in all of us. Now, who would like to begin?"

An unpopular, nerdy girl raised her hand.

"Yes Abby?"

"Well, Chris and I used to date, but he said I was boring, so we broke up. Now I realize I wasn't boring, Chris was just dissatisfied with his life,"

Connor couldn't help it, he laughed. The idea of Chris being with someone like that was utterly impossible. Everyone stared, and Connor covered it up by fake crying. Something he realized he was going to have to get very good at if he was going to keep up this charade.


	7. Chapter 7

Connor was sitting in Steve's old shed, which had been turned into a workout room and a television area. An old TV was set to the news channel, and Chris D. was currently making his debut.

"You know, we were the same size, so sometimes we could borrow each others clothes and mix it up," Chris obviously didn't really care about what he was talking about, he was just glad that everyone was paying attention to him.

"God, you're an asshole," Connor scoffed at the TV. He turned to Steve, who was sitting beside him on a ratty old couch, grinning. "Mute him," Steve did as he was told and pointed the remote at the TV, changing it to another news station. There appeared Chris D.'s face once again.

"Chris how many networks did you run to?" Connor acted like his "friend" could hear him through the gritty screen.

Another face appeared. "It's just not gonna be the same without him,"

"What are you talking about? You hated him, he hated you!" Connor liked getting his frustrations out about everything that was going on. Just the way everyone all of a sudden acted like Chris T. was an angel really pissed him off.

"Every English class I looked forward to seeing him-" The screen went black as Steve angrily shut off the TV.

"Chris Thomas is more popular than ever now," He frowned and turned his head towards Connor.

"Scary stuff," Connor said quietly.

"Yeah," Steve nodded in agreement.

Connor heard a door slam.

"Hey son, I didn't hear you come in," An older man walked in front of where Connor and Steve were sitting and smiled.

"Hey dad. How was work today?" Steve asked while his father was getting on a treadmill that was set up by the couch. Steve had this weird thing with his dad that Connor would never understand. Maybe it was because Connor didn't really have a relationship with his father.

"It was miserable," He said half joking. "Some damn tribe of withered old bitches doesn't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel, all because Glen Miller and his band once took a shit there. Just like Kansas. Remember fucking Kansas?"

Connor chuckled and Steve nodded. "Yeah that was the one with the bushes, right?"

"Yeah, save the memorial oak tree society," Mr. Blade laughed. "Showed those fucks,"

"Yeah, 30 of those 4th of July fireworks attached to the trunk, arraigned but acquitted," Steve looked at Connor, who smiled nervously. Steve threw his arm around Connor. "I almost forgot to introduce my boyfriend,"

Connor looked at Steve like he was crazy. Who would so blatantly tell their parents they were gay? Connor knew if he said something like that, he would immediately be disowned. He prayed Steve noticed his distress and would come up with some dumb excuse so his dad wouldn't kill them.

But his dad just rolled his eyes. "Who might that be?"

"Connor, this is my dad. Dad, Connor,"

"H-Hi," Connor stammered and reached out to shake Mr. Blade's hand.

Mr. Blade waved the gesture away. "Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay for dinner?"

Connor stood up quickly. "I can't," He straightened his polo. "My mom's making my favorite meal tonight, spaghetti with lots of oregano," Connor explained weakly.

"How nice," Steve said bitterly. "Last time I saw my mom, she was waving from a library window in Texas," He turned to his father. "Right dad?"

Mr. Blade frowned at his son. "Right,"

Connor rubbed the back of his neck. "Right," He said nervously as he slowly backed out of the den.

Connor was about to rush inside when his father called him out to the porch.

"Take a break Connor, sit down" He said lightheartedly as Connor sat down between his parents.

There was another cheese platter on the table, and Connor quickly spread some cheese on a cracker and shoved it in his mouth. He hoped his folks would get the message and try not to talk to Connor about anything. But his parents were expecting small talk, so Connor had to painfully give them some.

"So, what was the first day after Chris' suicide like?" Mr. McKinley pulled out a cigarette.

"I don't know, okay I guess," Connor answered with his mouth full, praying that he didn't look as bad as he felt.

"Terrible thing," His mother said sadly before quickly changing the subject. "So when are we going to meet this beautiful, blonde prom contender,"

Connor attempted to cram two crackers in his mouth at once, but his mother slapped them out of his hand.

"Those are empty calories," She scolded. "We don't want your thighs getting bigger than they already are,"

Connor glared at his mother and looked to his father for support.

However, his father was paying no attention to him. He was too busy trying to light his cigarette.

"Never," He answered his mother's question. "I don't think I'm going to get a date to prom, my thunder thighs will probably turn them off,"

"Honey I didn't mean it in a mean way. I'm just be honest,"

'_An honest bitch,_' Connor thought to himself. Why were his parents criticizing him? His dad had a potbelly, but he never saw his mom stop him from eating copious amounts of food. "No you're right," He said out loud. "I think I'm just going to become anorexic, then everyone will love me,"

"Connor!" His mother gasped. "Go inside right this instant! If you can't say anything nice don't say it at all,"

"I'm not in fucking preschool mom. And if we're going by those rules, you probably shouldn't have commented on my thighs," He retorted.

His mother's eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth, unable to find the right thing to her son. He had never cursed in front of his parents before, and she was horrified.

His father was still oblivious to everything, smoking his cigarette and reading a magazine.

Connor got up from the table and stormed out to the font of his enormous house. He was sick of everything. No, he was actually sick. He suddenly felt his knees become weak as he approached his car. Making a very reckless(and bad) choice, he threw up in the bushes, decided he was fit to drive, and climbed into his Mazda Miata, determined to get away from everything.

**Sorry I haven't been updating. I've had this chapter for a while but I was too lazy to actually log in and post it. From now on I will try to update at least once a week if not more (Also sorry about the sudden change in plot, I'm trying out some new writing techniques. Tell me what you think!)**


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